if angels could cry
by ghettos
Summary: And in that moment, she knows that she's lost both of them. -— Will/Tessa/Jem, oneshot. /for YoursForAllOfEternity on the Towers of Alicante Summer Fic Exchange


**A/N—** First TMI/ID fic! :D /. . . yay? — this is for the Summer or Bust Fic Exchange on the Towers of Alicante, and it was written for YoursForAllOfEternity and her gorgeous prompts :D

**i. **And I laughed silently as I watched the pain in your face.  
**ii.** Tumbling down  
**iii.** His/her lips tasted like poison.  
**iv.** His/her dreams were never peaceful . . .

* * *

_if angels could cry_

* * *

It's almost impossible for him to refuse her, as he soon comes to realize.

As he promised himself, he never once touched her, because she's _forbidden_ and _intangible_ — but that just makes it all the better when she whirls around and kisses him, one day in the library. And though his mind is screaming for him to stop, his heart whispers to him that it's right, and he would never refuse her, anyway. Her kisses are light and hurried, softer than the brush of a butterfly's wing, and his fingers cradle her face delicately, as if he's afraid he would break her. But she's impatient, because _gentleness_ is not what she wants; she reaches up and yanks the hairpins from her updo, and her hair tumbles down her back in silky brown waves.

He slides his fingers through her hair as her kisses become fiercer, hungrier, and in the instant he realizes what she really wants, her lips against his turn to poison and he pushes her away, gasping. Her eyes are wide with the hurt of rejection, but he presses his eyelids shut and tries to think straight. "This is not what you want," he manages finally. "You deserve better." And with that, he whirls around and heads out of the library, trying to ignore the stabbing pain in his heart. Because she didn't love him, she was merely making use of him, because both of them knew that he could never refuse her.

And that hurt more than having his heart ripped from his chest.

**/**

He's utterly in love with her, as he soon comes to realize.

His dreams have never been peaceful since that incident in the library; they have been filled with images of her and James, his best friend, his _brother_ — and they're laughing at him, scorning him, because he's hopelessly infatuated with her and his love goes unrequited. She laughs when she sees the pain in his face, then whispers, _you're not good enough for me, and you never will be.__  
_

He comes to, drenched in sweat and tears, and stumbles towards the bathroom where he splashes water repeatedly on his face, telling himself over and over again, _it's just a nightmare, it's just a nightmare._ But he knows that he's in love with her, and he abhors himself for it, because for the Angel's sake, she's with _Jem, _and she'll never love you.

And the truth always hurts the most.

* * *

It was always Will and Tessa, Tessa and Will, but _he_ just came along and fell desperately in love with her. He knows that Will feels the same way, because he knows Will better than _anyone_, but Will was never one to show his feelings, and coldly rejected every advance she made towards him. He knows that she still loves Will, somewhere deep down inside of her, and that she only agreed to marry him because she pitied him.

_Pity._ He _hates_ being pitied, because he doesn't like being seen as weaker than everyone else. _But why else would she marry you, a man whose lifeline is tethered to a box of medicine_? He fancies the idea of her being in love with him, and tries to assure himself that it's _real, _but he knows it's not and hates himself for even thinking that she would love someone like _him._

Hope raises you up, but makes the fall even harder.

**/**

The flower in his hand is a tree peony, a blossom native to China, and he imagines tucking it behind her ear, seeing her smile at him. He brushes a finger against the soft petals, smiling to himself as he heads to her room and knocks on the door. There is no response, so he assumes that she is in the library, where she usually is, if not in her room.

When he reaches the open door of the library, however, the smile is wiped from his face, the flower drops from his hand and he _sees_ — his worst fears confirmed, he turns around almost numbly, his heart shattering into a million pieces and falling onto the floor. He returns to his room, lifts his violin, and plays a single note. It rings mournfully into the silence, echoing hopelessly into the emptiness of the room. Then he sets down his instrument and starts to cry, brokenhearted sobs issuing from low down in his throat as he spirals even deeper into the abyss of despair.

Because she never loved him, and never will.

* * *

When she first met him, she thought he was the most beautiful boy she had ever seen. Her knight in shining armor, come to rescue her from the torment of the Dark Sisters. And she'd attacked him with a jug. He made her laugh and he made her cry — and yet she loved him beyond despair, and she'd thought he reciprocated her feelings.

So she just sits there in the library, numbly, his rejection of her stinging like a slap to the face, because she'd _thought _he loved her back. But obviously not. She'd thought that kissing him would ease her pain — the conflict she'd been feeling for the past fortnight — and for a minute, she thought she'd felt a spark, but he just pushed her coldly away and disappeared from sight. She can't help but wonder about what he'd said to her — _this is not what you want. You deserve better._ What does that mean? She asks herself repeatedly. She stares at the ceiling, as if searching for answers, but none are forthcoming.

**/**

When her legs are finally strong enough she stands up and staggers towards the door, where she almost trips on a flower lying in the doorway. "What is this . . . ?" She lifts the blossom off the floor, and examines it, turning it over in her hands. Footsteps echo along the corridor, and she looks up to see Sophie walking towards her, a basket in her hands. "Sophie?" she asks, quietly. "Do you know what this flower is?"

"I believe it's a tree peony," the maid answers after a while of scrutinizing it. "It's a flower native to China."

Those words are a second blow to her heart, and she stumbles backwards; Sophie rushes to catch her. "Miss Tessa? _Miss Tessa_?" But Tessa doesn't respond, because she's dead to the world, Sophie's words echoing over and over in her head. _It's a flower native to China. _And she knows that it must have been _Jem_, Jem who placed the flower there, Jem who had seen her and Will —

And in that moment, she knows that she's lost both of them.

* * *

**A/N** — sorry for the angst D: It's my first time writing about them, so I might have gotten them a little OOC, don't hesitate to tell me if I didn't do them justice ^^ hope you like it, and please do not favourite or alert without reviewing. Thanks much! :D


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